Forgotten Wars: Epidsode I Dark Lessons
by CoreLeone
Summary: A much younger Master Yoda and his apprentice find themselves caught in the cosmic maelstrom of the Force gone wild, transported to a planet far, far beyond the known galaxy...
1. Prologue

**Forgotten Wars: Episode I -- Dark Lessons**

**Prologue**

_A _very_ long time ago, in a galaxy unknown..._

Master Yoda's eyes flew open the instant he felt the unfamiliar disturbance. Like nothing he'd experienced thus far in his two centuries of life, the discordant twang in the Force thrummed all about him, and through him, threatening to gouge a rift in the very fabric of time and space. Slowly the Jedi Master turned in his seat to regard his Padawan learner, Corintheus Thoram. He didn't need the Force to tell him that the human, barely into his twenties, had felt the breach as well. Corintheus's golden brown visage verily trembled, dark eyes wide as saucers, his thick lips murmuring something completely inaudible.

For the Padawan, piloting the sleek starship called _X-Falcon II_, was beginning to lose control. The holographic image of the preset course, hovering inches above the console, flickered and faded -- as did the interior lights of the ship itself. They had long since come out of hyperdrive (or at least they thought they had), but still the kaleidoscope of colors rushed past like a raging river.

"Very peculiar, something is," Yoda remarked at length. "Slowed down long ago, we should have."

"You don't say, Master," Corintheus growled in response, his baritone voice dripping with sarcasm, as he glanced over at the diminutive green alien. As if to refute the very reality of the situation, the Padawan slammed the regulator shift into fourth quadrant, a molecular transmission gear built in to troubleshoot any foreign program entering its system by means of the Force itself. It was a tricky invention, engineered by Master Yoda and his right-hand colleague back on Coruscant. Only now it didn't appear to be working. Comets and meteorites continued to stream past the viewport like a dreamscape, moons and worlds becoming one indistinct blur after another. But eventually, mercifully, they levelled out in the midst of what they originally took to be their own galaxy.

It was not.

Yoda was first to recognize the difference. While the worlds looked similar at first to those he and his Padawan had known from their many travels, both together and as individuals, there was something tangibly different about the soul of this galaxy. Suddenly the Force did not feel as one complete entity of perfection, but of a myriad host of very distinct and largely unpredictable personas. A living gemstone whose hundreds of thousands of facets could not be fully comprehended by mere mortals. One large planet in particular loomed ahead, casting its verdant glow in the blackness of space like a lantern filled with blue fire in a cold mountain cave. Its atmosphere overrode the controls aboard the _X-Falcon II_, reeling the streamlined vessel directly toward it, like a goober fish snagging its aquatic prey with its long, sticky tongue.

"This is madness," Corintheus whispered in awe, staring straight ahead at the beautiful globe teeming with life-forms that nothing in the ship's scanner log could identify, except to associate a few species with vaguely similar ones residing in its database. That was odd indeed, thought the Jedi Master as he regarded his Padawan briefly out of the corner of his eye, listening to the quiet vocalizers overhead reading off the names of those few species it could associate with, incorrectly naming the denizens of this world, which clutched the starship with its invisible fingers and drew them ever inward. Yoda was able to sense that nothing here was as it should be. Not if they were still in their own galaxy.

Soon, thoughts fell silent, giving way to serenity and acceptance as the ship plunged through the world's bright atmosphere, like a burning star on a crash course with the surface of an uncharted land. As indeed this planet was to Master Yoda and Corintheus Thoram. The _X-Falcon II _spiraled as would the eye of a nebular storm, careening at breakneck speed toward a destination unforetold and indecipherable to the watchful eye. Yoda merely sighed and closed his eyes, long ears swiveling slightly, falling into a meditative trance to see if he could at least establish a solid connection with this new variation of the Force...

* * * * *

Zaknafein Do'Urden glided out of the great cavern directly behind his patrol-mate, the unusually tall (for a male drow) Baenre boy known as Jarlaxle taking the lead for this expedition only because his brother, Dantrag, insisted that Zaknafein not be put in a position to obtain the glory of the first kill of the night. That was perfectly fine by Zaknafein's standards. He was not particularly fond of the idea of killing a bunch of faeries he had never before met, besides in the tales he and his classmates had been told in the Academy. The night was young in the World Above, he surmised. The crescent dagger in the sky was silvery white, a pale reflection of the golden horror that ruled by day, according to the legends. The breeze of the open plains were fresh, untainted and unhindered. Wildlife danced on the peripheries of the raiding party's set course, which was an arrow aimed for the heart of the woodland domain straight ahead. Unfamiliar sounds filled the air all about them, keeping their senses sharp and alert for anything.

Triel Baenre appeared out of thin air directly in front of Jarlaxle, her hawkish face set in a menacing glare, her ceremonial robes buffeted by the light wind blowing against the mountainside. _Do not take this expedition as an opportunity for personal gain, third boy_, her delicate black fingers signaled in the silent hand code, the way she emphasized that last reminding Jarlaxle in no uncertain terms that he was an oddity among drow males, and therefore was always expected to do strictly as instructed on pain of death. For everyone knew that Jarlaxle should have been sacrificed at birth for the misfortune of being the thirdborn male in his House, the First House of Menzoberranzan. Only the word of Matron Baenre herself kept the troublesome male alive, much to Triel's disliking above all. Always the troublemaker, this brother of hers, this foolish, grinning, unorthodoxed court jester of a drow! This bald warrior who could nevertheless find a way to flip a profit for himself in the stickiest of situations.

As Triel might have expected, her brother merely smiled and tipped that outrageous hat of his, with its huge diatryma feather, in deference to her as he strode past without a word. Zaknafein, by comparison, spared the drow priestess only a cursory glance before he, too, stepped beyond her imposing form. That one was not to be trusted in the least, Triel mused, as she always did when she looked upon the mysterious Do'Urden. House D'aermon Na'Shez'baernon, twelfth House of Menzoberranzan -- a compound known for its warriors even above the prominence of its priestesses in some circles. Perhaps Dantrag should have dealt with this particular Do'Urden when given the opportunity in the last tournament at Melee-Magthere, the school for fighters. Instead, the weapon master of House Baenre had brought home only excuses as to why this Zaknafein creature was still alive and well.

Foolish males! All of them should be willing to sacrifice themselves on altars dedicated to the glory of the Spider Queen, and do so gladly in the knowledge that their worthless lives would finally amount to something other than child-givers in a female's society. Males with pride were one thing; that was merely a fantasy that some of them focused on to keep them motivated. But males with real power? Males who somehow transcended even their own expectations, obtaining some measure of respect even from the priestesses of their respective Houses? That was absurd. Worse, Triel thought wretchedly, it was an abomination!

Perhaps she should arrange for Zaknafein to be killed out here in the open. Or perhaps hers should be the hand of the executioner directly. Either way, it was time to separate the useful from the unuseful, the lizard mounts from the grubworms. In the midst of battle, as the chaos of bloodshed commenced in the heart of the Moonwood, the black widow would make her move against a certain distracted preying mantis.


	2. The Weave

**Chapter I: **

**The Weave**

The vibrant flood of images rendered by the self-induced vision kept shifting so as not to be easily identified by the Jedi Master. At the same time, he thought he could still sense the primal fear radiating from his apprentice sitting next to him in the cockpit. The ship was losing altitude at an alarming rate, with no conceivable way of breaking their fall, since the navigational controls had all shut down for some mysterious reason. A sudden, fiery demise somewhere far below seemed imminent.

_"You are far, far from home, Ancient One," _came a quiet, seductive voice in the Jedi Master's mind, resonating with immeasurable power and timeless wisdom. Yoda started at the unexpected words, peeking reflexively over at Corintheus, whom he instantly knew had spoken not a word. _"Fear not the nature of your landing, for I will make certain that you and your ship remain intact. What you do about your predicament from there, however, is your own concern. Be forwarned that grave danger is afoot where I am sending you."_

_"An agent of the Force, are you?" _Master Yoda spoke telepathically as well, not wanting to alarm his Padawan any further than he already was. A lighthearted chuckle echoed in the Jedi's thoughts, as Yoda imagined a mother would do in response to something her youngling had just inquired about the secrets of the universe.

_"What you refer to as the Force where you're from is called the Weave in this galaxy," _the voice explained. _"But you will find that it answers your call in equal, if not superior, measure. In fact, I will personally see to it that it does."_

_"And who are you, might I ask?" _the Jedi Master pressed, hardly believing his good fortune and wanting to attribute it to a name.

But nothing more was forthcoming.

"Good news, Master! We're landing in a meadow near some woods. The ship has righted itself by whatever mysterious power rules this planet."

Master Yoda just nodded and sighed, opening his sleepy eyes once more. "Much to learn we have, young Thoram," he intoned in his gravelly voice. "Padawan learners we both are, it now seems."

* * * * *

Fifty strong they were, comprised primarily of warriors, but sufficiently supported by those who had recently graduated from Sorcere, the school for wizards. As the raiding party set out to penetrate the sylvan domain of their hated surface cousins, the strategically positioned mages went through the proper incantations to render the entire group invisible -- more or less. Actually, they all became as living shadows under the revealing light of the crescent moon, maintaining their true forms but appearing to any onlookers in the area as no more than a trick of the moonlit night, phantoms of a child's vivid dream set in the wilderness. Zaknafein worried that it was too late for such magic to be truly effective at this stage in their journey; he feared that perhaps the faeries had already spotted them, and were even now biding their time, posted up in the boughs of the looming trees before them, armed with poison-tipped spears that they could throw with deadly accuracy.

Discipline and fortitude ruled the night, however. As the group fanned out like the fingers of two hands evenly aligned, approaching the Moonwood from various angles, Zaknafein found himself still trailing the familiar presence of Jarlaxle. Even in the form of a living shadow, the outrageous Baenre's magical devices - particularly his custom-designed _piwafwi_ - caused him to shimmer ever so faintly, like a cluster of stars partially obscured by a thin layer of clouds. Those boots of his were utterly silent now, Zaknafein noted approvingly. It would not be wise to go clacking about over the soft, green earth just to amuse himself, simply because the magic was there to do with as he pleased. Jarlaxle might be a little on the eccentric side, but he was nobody's fool.

Zaknafein found that he actually liked Jarlaxle. What Zak _didn't_ like, though, was the purpose of this visit to the surface. It was the intention of every drow raiding party in the history of Lloth's chosen to hunt down and destroy as many surface elves as could be found, before the hellish power of the new dawn revealed itself in the heavens. As the future weapon master of House Do'Urden, Zak could certainly appreciate a good challenge. But he had a sinking feeling this was not going to be a challenge worthy of his unbridled passion and murderous skill. Faeries were evil creatures, according to the instructors at the Academy. Only they were never described as doing anything other than defending themselves and their homes in every tale that Zak had ever listened to or read. He had graduated at the top of his class, hailed as the patrol leader for all ensuing expeditions throughout the Wilds of the Underdark. But he was not granted leadership here in this place, in the World Above, where Lloth's most coveted dreams of retribution were embodied in the fair-skinned vessels they now sought. The young warrior cared not at all that Dantrag and Triel were personally overseeing this mission, or that Jarlaxle held the point position leading up to the cave that spilled out onto the surface. Zak only cared that the defenders were indeed armed and ready, rather than blissfully unaware and unarmed somewhere that they could easily be caught and slain.

The play of light and shadow was a bit disconcerting as the party navigated several trails at once, the breaches in the thick canopy overhead leaving holes through which the celestial dagger stabbed downward, shooting its soft white beams here and there, revealing the rich greens and light browns of the forest proper. Zaknafein froze in midstride at one point when an owl sounded off from a low branch of the tree directly ahead and to his right. The drow warrior had never seen an owl before, and he was immediately alert for the slightest move on the avian's part that would indicate aggression. Back in the Wilds of the Underdark, the majority of the creatures encountered were very dangerous and had to be killed on sight - quietly, of course. This particular creature, with its huge, piercing eyes and short, hooked beak, merely stared at the shadow that was Zaknafein for a brief moment, before spreading its wings and launching itself due north. A spy perhaps? Zaknafein couldn't help but wonder.

He watched the bird disappear into the dark horizon high above the trees, arching a slender white eyebrow when someone belatedly fired a handheld crossbow at the sight of it. The quarrel, of course, had no chance of reaching such a lofty height as this potential threat had already achieved. There was nothing for it now but to continue on, searching the unfamiliar territory with all due speed.

Zaknafein had a very bad feeling about this.


	3. Silent Alarm

**Chapter II:**

**Silent Alarm**

Jovell Starwind watched expectantly as the owl alighted on the outer limb protruding from the gracefully carved balcony of his tree home. While the other members of Jovell's band slumbered, for the most part, he took it upon himself to post first watch. Something about this night didn't sit well with the old chieftain: a sentiment that his wizard adviser, Kandomyr, shared wholeheartedly. They had practically grown up together, had adventured side-by-side over the course of almost a half-millennium. But now, all of a sudden, they were both very afraid. Something wicked, cunning and superbly skilled was fast approaching the Moonwood. Jovell could feel it in the pit of his stomach. Like the quiet before the storm, it was a phantasmal menace that had been growing in his mind all during the previous day and well into the twilit hours before nightfall.

The chieftain wrapped his emerald green cloak tighter about his torso against the cool breeze blowing in from the north, his jet-black hair flowing out behind him like the mane of a mighty black stallion. His steel gray eyes never blinked as he watched the owl watching him, the transformation from avian to elvish mage a gradual process that never ceased to amaze Jovell. Once completed, Kandomyr hopped down from his suddenly precarious perch on the tree limb onto the wooden balcony, resplendent in his long flowing robes of the same color as Jovell's cloak, but with elvish runes and sparkling gemstones stitched into it from top to bottom. Kandomyr's golden eyes held the same piercing quality as in the form of an owl, his angular jaws set firmly with the gravity of the news he now bore.

"It is confirmed, my Lord," announced the wizard in a voice scarcely above a whisper, as though fearful of being overheard by someone nearby. "A party of drow approaches from our southern border. Fifty of them: wizards, warriors and priestesses working in concert. We must sound the alarm at once. But we must do so quietly. I was thinking to do so by means of a dream spell, if you but give me the word."

Jovell closed his eyes and gritted his teeth in anger. A drow raiding party! The last time one of those had come forth was when he himself was but an infant. Only his mother and a few of their finest archers and mages survived that particular nightmare, as Jovell was told years later. But many had died so that those who escaped might continue the Moonwood legacy. It was said that, in the end, it was only the dawn itself that had thwarted the attack, forcing the invaders to retreat back into the deepest regions of Toril from whence they'd come.

No time for pondering all of that now, though, the chieftain realized. "Of course, Kandomyr," he said to his long-time friend. "That would be the best course of action, since no one heeded my warning yesterday. It would not do to make a big commotion about it. These are dark elves we're talking about: silent, deadly and determined. Our response must be equally so on all counts."

Kandomyr nodded slightly. "There is something else out there, too, my Lord," he confided, this time even more quietly than before, so that Jovell had to step closer in order to hear him. "Some kind of... flying chariot or ship, I presume, for lack of anything else I've seen in this world that compares to it, is even now descending toward our eastern perimeter. I saw it on my way here. I know not what to make of it, except that I once heard a tale from a drunken bard during one of my sojourns to the city of Silverymoon about those who travel among the stars."

Jovell donned a curious expression. "Truly?" he asked. "What did it look like, exactly?"

"Something like a huge bird of prey, but sleeker, made of metal, designed for speed and power combined," Kandomyr revealed. Then, with a fretful glance toward the forest floor, he said, "There's no time! I must go inside and invoke the silent alarm."

Jovell nodded and gestured toward the entrance to his humble abode inside the tree. "By all means, let us prepare for war," he said solemnly. "And pray that the dawn will once again prove to be our greatest ally."

* * * * *

The first indication that the battle was underway came in the sound of many arrows and spears whistling through the breeze from on high, followed by several soft thuds in rapid succession and the groans of the mortally wounded. Precisely what Zaknafein had feared! He and Jarlaxle drew their weapons immediately, pinning their backs to a pair of trees positioned side-by-side and only a few feet apart. One quick glance at his companion told Zak that the shadowform spell had dissipated. "Great," he murmured, to which he heard Jarlaxle's knowing chuckle a second later.

Heeding the sudden scream of his own instincts, the future weapon master of House Do'Urden hit the ground in a forward roll, holding his enchanted swords out wide as he did. As soon as he was upright again, he whipped about to face whatever threat had startled him. But Jarlaxle was already locked in mortal combat with the creature. Zak stared for only an instant; long enough to realize it was a surface elf - a dark-haired female armed with twin scimitars.

She moved with the grace of a hunting cat, her curved blades an indistinct blur as she and Jarlaxle moved about the base of the tree. But as good as she was, her attacks never came close to hitting the laughing third boy of House Baenre. Typically, Jarlaxle liked to toy with his opponents, at least in the initial stages of the conflict. Once it became clear that one of them must surely perish, though...

Zak hit the ground again as a spear flew at him from a fair distance, its silvery tip just grazing the side of his cheek. He rolled off to the side, coming up behind the trunk of yet another tree. Peeking his head around the other side of it, he noticed that Jarlaxle's back was exposed to sneak attacks. Shaking his head and sheathing one blade, Zak quickly gestured in his friend's direction, as if throwing something. A globe of impenetrable darkness swallowed the two combatants in the blink of an eye. It wasn't much in the way of protection, he knew, but it would have to do for now. Besides, Jarlaxle was not without his own resources. Quite the contrary, in fact.

Zaknafein drew his other blade once more and, with hardly a thought, levitated halfway up the tree. After a brief surveillance, the drow warrior was satisfied that this particular tree was unoccupied. He squatted down on a sturdy limb, watching and listening as the battle raged on. The drow wizards' response to the defenders' hail of arrows and spears came in a barrage of fireballs, lightning bolts and balls of sizzling acid. Many trees now crackled and burned up ahead and to either side of the immediate area, stealing the darkness of the once peaceful night, even as the screams of the dying stole the silence. Zak felt a seething anger welling up inside himself at the prospect of destroying these elves' homes, at the thought that all of them might very well perish before the dawn.

Almost as if to reassure the sympathetic drow, a sudden explosion of thunder shook the heavens, followed immediately by a torrential downpour that doused the magical flames spreading through the forest before any permanent damage was done. Zak allowed himself a ghost of a grin. The surface elves, it seemed, were not without their own clever resources.


	4. The Padawans

**Chapter III:**

**The Padawans**

Corintheus Thoram hopped out of the open cockpit and into the driving rain of the outside world. Master Yoda busied himself gathering their supplies inside the ship, packing only the necessities into a green woolen bag, including Corintheus's lightsaber. The curved titanium handle lay nestled between a data pad and a handful of emergency flares in the central holding console. Corintheus temporarily forgot about the weapon in his desire to view this new planet, to feel it and experience its essence. Only the distant bolts of lightning and the clash of metal on metal in the deeper darkness of the grand forest before him distracted his meditation.

"Need this, you will," Master Yoda called, to which Corintheus nodded and extended his right palm behind him. The cool steel of his lightsaber, with its flawless twin rubies embedded into it, came as a welcome sensation to Corintheus, a poignant reminder that he should keep his focus on the here and now. Peering intently into the shadows of the wilderness, the young human was eventually able to make out shapes moving about in there. The sounds of a great battle taking place were unmistakable after a moment, even above the continuous blasts of thunder in the sky. Angry clouds from the north had rushed in to obscure the stars and the crescent moon, converged primarily over the forest proper.

"Master?" Corintheus murmured over his shoulder toward the starship.

"Yes, Padawan," Yoda replied at length, even now coming out of the ship to join the young man.

Corintheus looked down at his diminutive Master, watched as Yoda tossed the traveling bag onto the grass at his feet, his tattered brown robe sticking to his body like a second skin after only a few seconds in this whipping downpour. Nodding toward the heart of the forest, Corintheus said, "We should go and see what is going on, Master. This is a new world, one which we may not be leaving for a while if our ship refuses to function here. My thinking is to get started immediately on acquainting ourselves with the locals. What is your thinking?"

Master Yoda did not answer at first. He merely studied his apprentice for a few moments, long ears twitching in the rain. Then, looking into the darkness of the great forest, the Jedi Master observed the gravity of the situation at hand. Quite simply, there weren't an awful lot of options to explore right now, other than the one Corintheus had just offered, for the _X-Falcon II_ was indeed out of commission for the time being. Its engines were currently nonresponsive to all controls, as was the weapons system. Only the interior lights and the interpreting modulator were functioning at present. That gave Yoda pause. He opened the folds of his robes and summoned his own lightsaber to his hand, its sleek black metal flying instantly into his leathery green palm. The Force - or the _Weave_, as the mysterious voice had called it - was definitely responsive here, just as the voice had promised. In fact, it seemed alive with new energy levels that were altogether foreign to Master Yoda, vibrating with the thoughts and philosophies of many distinct personas that were an integral part of the whole. In a way, it was not so dissimilar to the wider currents of the Living Force back home. Mostly, it varied in its potency from one aspect to the other. One persona in particular felt all-encompassing, mysterious and all-seeing, while another felt somewhat diminished by comparison, yet powerful and wise and charismatic in its own right.

Clearing his thoughts, the Jedi Master ignited his lightsaber, its emerald green energy crackling to life, hissing and letting off tendrils of steam in the whirling rain. "We go," Yoda finally announced. Corintheus nodded and ignited his own weapon, visibly glad to see that his, too, was operational. By comparison to Yoda's lightsaber, Corintheus's was a sickle-shaped beam that shone pure white in the darkness of the night, a testament of the extremely rare crystals from his home planet, Naboo, which the young human had found and used to construct his weapon. "Only the code of the Council must you remember," Yoda elaborated.

"No side in this conflict of otherworlders shall we take. If attacked we are, then defend ourselves we must. But no killing or maiming or dismembering will we do. As observers only, we present ourselves first. When discover we do which of these locals are friendly to visitors, then attempt to communicate with them and learn what can be done about our situation we shall." That said, the diminutive alien switched off his lightsaber and dashed into the forest with the speed of an earthbound comet.

Corintheus followed immediately thereafter, rushing to catch up to the little brown streak in the darkness ahead. The radiant white glow of his own lightsaber was a beacon in the heart of the woods, which the young Padawan realized belatedly and switched it off in midsprint. Corintheus soon came to an abrupt halt at Master Yoda's side behind a tall evergreen tree, still beyond the influence of the battle, but not so distant as to be immune to getting caught in the crossfire at any moment. Corintheus stared through the branches and needle-thin leaves to witness more clearly the nature of the conflict and the factions involved. One side representated a race of ebon-skinned, athletically built sentients with stark white hair and glowing red eyes. The other side was similar in build and in the pointed tips of their ears, but were fair-skinned, with either golden or dark hair, eyes also of a variety of colors.

So it was a racial war, Corintheus noted. "Who is the aggressor here, I wonder?" he breathed, the sound of his voice blanketed by the continuous thunder, as well as the impact of unnatural lightning and balls of fire and acid.

"Obvious, that should be, young Thoram," said Yoda during a momentary lull, indicating that his own ears were still sharp as ever. "Those who from above their enemies in the trees fight, defenders are they. On the ground level, invaders lay seige to a territory not their own."

As if someone had just heard the exchange between Master and Padawan, a neon bolt of lightning slashed the space between them, blasting a smoldering hole in the center of the evergreen. Yoda and Corintheus leaped to either side, dropping into rolls through piles of leaves and shrubbery. When again they stood, they found many red-glowing eyes suddenly looking their way. Concealed in the flickering shadows, the dark-skinned warriors closest to the Jedi's vicinity approached as a unit. There were ten of them, more than half bearing wounds of varying severity, wielding steel blades that nevertheless crackled with latent energy of some sort. One of the creatures spoke, which neither Yoda nor Corintheus could understand, of course.

"I knew we should have brought a droid with us," Corintheus complained.

"Beginning to agree am I."

Lightsabers once more dissipated the darkness. Green and white energy sizzled and hissed as the rain continued to fall. As coordinated and professionally trained as these dark warriors clearly were, they could not begin to make up for the sudden terrifying speed that Master Yoda and Corintheus Thoram employed to defend themselves. Living dust devils wielding weapons from a different time and a different galaxy spun gradually toward each other, blades trailing light and humming a deadly tune, as they worked their way through their would-be assailants. When each enemy was effectively disarmed and knocked to the ground, Master and apprentice again stood side-by-side.

More eyes were quick to notice, including some from amongst the tree-bound defenders. Wooden, steel-tipped projectiles swept the area, as did more lightning and fireballs. Corintheus and Yoda deflected each projectile fired specifically at them. The main concentration of defenders appeared to be located in the northcentral part of the forest, wherein a single tree of exceedingly great stature stood directly in the midst, crawling with pale-skinned archers and spearmen in larger numbers than anywhere else.

"There," Corintheus exclaimed as he deflected another arrow, incinerating the wooden missile on contact. "In the biggest tree of that section over there, Master! I'm going to make a break for it!"

"No," Yoda shouted as he, too, whipped his lightsaber before him in a blinding display. "Here with me, you must remain! Killed you may be, if alone you travel. Not knowing of our intentions are the defenders of this dominion!"

But it was no use. Ever the stubborn one, even as a youngling, Corintheus Thoram summoned his energy reserves for a flying leap. From one tree to the next he went, always just ahead of the few projectiles that sprang from the darkness in an effort to cut him down. Before Master Yoda knew it, his Padawan learner had landed firmly on the highest rampart fashioned into the tree he had indicated, his cloaked form instantly swallowed by the press of bodies, which had briefly parted to allow him access. Now that he was in their midst, Yoda could see only the top of his hooded head - followed shortly by his upraised hands. Neither hand now held his lightsaber, either, Yoda noticed.

The Jedi Master sighed in disgust, then darted off into the shadows, traveling a roundabout course that would take him to the backside of that fortress of a tree. He could only hope and pray it was not already too late.

"May the Weave be with us," he whispered to himself.


	5. Dark Magic

**Chapter IV:**

**Dark Magic**

Gromph Baenre did not appreciate being summoned from his studies for the sake of this petty squabble on the surface. Although his sister was well within her rights to do so, the Archmage of Menzoberranzan was nevertheless infuriated by her temerity. Not to mention her judgment. The sacred black stone was not a toy, and he was no demon to call forth on a whim to do her dirty work!

"You wish to question me, dear brother?" Triel inquired into the wizard's hateful glare. Her own expression was rather smug by comparison, while that of Dantrag's was merely anxious. The weapon master of House Baenre stood next to his sister, looking from Gromph to the continuing battle all about the forest. So far, they had only managed a stalemate with their sworn adversaries, a situation that was even more unacceptable than walking for miles and miles under the blazing sun.

Gromph was neither amused nor concerned by the current state of affairs. His long black robes were soaked through in no time, his stark white hair plastered to his cheeks, as a result of the magically conjured rain. "In this case, _dear sister_," Gromph retorted, emphasizing that last with more than a little sarcasm, "I most certainly do. Why did you not send your summons to a handmaiden of Lloth, for example, if you what you desire is to put an end to this foolish conflict? Why disturb _me_ for the sake of a routine surface raid?"

Now it was Triel's turn to simmer with barely controlled rage. "You dare --"

"I dare to make myself perfectly clear, Triel," Gromph smoothly interjected, folding his arms over his chest. "As the Archmage of Menzoberranzan, I cannot afford to go racing to the rescue every time one of these skirmishes in the World Above goes sour. My work is paramount, and cannot be delayed. In fact, I was in the middle of a new spell to add to the defenses of House Baenre, as per the request of our Matron Mother. House Barrison Del Armgo has been spying on us for weeks now, she says. I am inclined to believe her."

Triel gritted her teeth, her red eyes flaring as brightly as the lightning bolts and fireballs still blazing throughout the forest. With a trembling hand, she reached inside her ceremonial robes and produced the traditional, snake-headed whip of a High Priestess of Lloth. All five viper heads responded accordingly to the will of their wielder, writhing and hissing in eager anticipation. But Triel did not step forward to administer the punishment that normally followed this display. "I should beat you to within a centimeter of your life, you miserable wretch! You presume much for a mere male!"

Gromph was clearly unimpressed. All within House Baenre knew the importance of the Archmage. They also knew that he was not one to trifle with, considering the kind of power he could bring to bear in an instant - which, of course, was the very reason he was deemed so important in the first place.

Triel knew this as well as anyone. "Look, I need you to find the Archmage of Moonwood Forest and kill him for me," she said bluntly, paying no heed to the continuing antics of her living whip, all nine heads now showing interest in Dantrag standing so conveniently nearby. "This surface wizard is the whole reason we have not completed our business and returned to the Underdark long before now. And it is common knowledge that it takes an Archmage to capture an Archmage. Besides that, I personally have a certain Do'Urden boy to find and kill. So let us put aside our differences for now, and be done with this!"

Gromph smirked at that. He actually sniffed derisively, leaning his head back and tilting it to one side, as he continued to regard his sister. "Triel, am I to believe that a High Priestess of Lloth from the First House of Menzoberranzan is suddenly a believer in the power of male wizards over that of females? Or at least that my power is more effective than your own in this case?"

Unable to restrain herself any longer, Triel rushed forth, brandishing her whip. But Dantrag moved to intercept, tackling his sister to the ground in the space of a single heartbeat. He was just as quick to roll off of her, though, so as to point to the quivering arrow lodged in the bark of a tree not ten feet away. One of the viper heads from the whip sank its fangs into the weapon master's bicep in response, causing him to scream and leap aside, staggering to his feet while clutching the wound tightly to his armored chest.

Meanwhile, Gromph had not been idle. Pressing the tips of his fingers together, he breathed forth a quick but forceful incantation in the language of his ancestors, then drew his hands apart about the width of a small boulder. In the space between those dark hands materialized a sphere of impenetrable blackness. Only this was no mere globe designed to incapacitate the gift of sight; rather it was a _sphere of shadowflame_ - courtesy of a fairly recent experiment during Gromph's personal studies. This darkness rushed forth from the drow wizard, expanding as it flew into the night. Very soon, high-pitched screams assaulted the atmosphere, only to be abruptly silenced. No quantity of conjured rain could possibly douse this particular fire!

Gromph smirked anew as he surveyed his handiwork, watching as dozens of pale-skinned elves literally incinerated on the spot, their bodies simply vanishing in the darkness that now reigned supreme for many kilometers in all directions. The surviving drow invaders, by comparison, were still nearly as many as they started out with for this little adventure. Each one of them now stared in disbelief as the majority of their adversaries were vanquished right before their eyes. Gromph knew that the spell would not destroy _all_ of the elves of Moonwood Forest, however, and so he was the only one standing in the area of the spell's immediate and limited influence who realized that the battle was not necessarily won.

"Good spell, brother," Triel remarked after a few moments, picking herself up from the ground, along with her dignity and reserve. Dantrag had moved off into the deeper shadows. Perhaps to lick his wound, like the dog he was, she thought. "And now, if you please, it would be greatly appreciated if you could locate our enemy's answer to the kind of power you wield, and destroy him," she said to Gromph, staring about the forest in search of the elusive Zaknafein Do'Urden.

Gromph breathed a sigh of disgust as he regarded his sister again. "Alright," he murmured, lifting his own gaze to the northernmost shadows of the woodland domain, wherein resided the Moon elves' main stronghold, no doubt. The drow mage pointed a bony finger in that direction. "In there is the most likely vantage point of such a mage," he revealed. "If he is still alive, he will be fighting in defense of the resident Lord of these parts. I will seek him out and do what must be done. I will report to you when it is over, and then I'm going home. Agreed?"

Triel nodded, her hawkish features a mask of content and sincere gratitude, for once.

"But you must do something for me, as well," the Archmage continued before leaving.

"What? Am I some merchant in the marketplace now, that you would barter with me?"

"I am your brother, whom you called to handle something that apparently you could not," Gromph responded smoothly. "Now, what I need from you is simple: upon successful completion of this minor mission of mine, I will require the sacred black stone from your possession, to remain in my own possession until further notice. Is that fair enough?"

Now it was Triel's turn to sigh in disgust. "Fine," she spat. "I will hand over the stone... _if_ you return successful in your mission."

Gromph nodded and reached down to turn the bone-white ring on his left hand, intending to vanish into thin air. An instant before he could turn it, though, his sister had to throw one more verbal spear for his consideration.

"When we are back in House Baenre, we will present this whole bartering business to Matron Baenre herself, dear brother. Just so you know, the stone is for a high priestess to possess. Males should not be entrusted with it. I'm sure Matron Baenre will be very intrigued to learn of this night's events."

Gromph glanced at Triel, a final smirk of supreme confidence creasing his ebony features. "I am certain she will, _dear sister_," he whispered. "Matron Baenre should be very interested indeed to learn of the events that took the Archmage away from Menzoberranzan, for the sake of a high priestess of her own House who could not find a way to defeat the magic of a mere faerie - probably male, at that." So saying, the Archmage turned the bone ring in a complete circle around his finger, and immediately blinked out of existence.


	6. The Black Lions

**Chapter V:**

**The Black Lions**

The three of them held weapons at the ready, prepared for anything to spring out at them as they stole through the underbrush, crouched over like hunting cats stalking their prey. It was an oddity of sounds, this whirring, whispering, chirping mystery. But each of them had an instinctive feeling that whoever or whatever was responsible for it was long gone from here by now. No one could explain it, yet all three of them perceived it in their innermost beings. They had long since united as an unlikely party during the course of the ongoing battle, as they had long since decided that it was an ingenious idea to play the part of assassins against the drow raiders.

So far, the kill-count was nearly even. Jae-Deia Starwind stood at four overall, while Jarlaxle claimed responsibility for the death of six of his own peers - a number that Zaknafein insisted was too high, considering that at least two different drow had been slain with Zaknafein's assistance. The future weapon master of House Do'Urden stood at precisely seven and one half kills, according to himself. Jae-Deia Starwind, daughter of Jovell Starwind, had been Jarlaxle's first opponent of the night, the very one who'd sought to ambush Zaknafein from the heights of a shadowtop tree. By virtue of one of Jarlaxle's many arcane artifacts in his possession, he was able to communicate with Jae-Deia in her own language. He was therefore amazed to discover that she actually already knew a few things in the silent hand code of the drow! Her father's wizard advisor had taught her that, she'd later admitted.

Jarlaxle's friendship with her had actually been established during the very conflict in which they'd met. Jarlaxle, thought Zaknafein. Ever the smooth-talking, swashbuckling rogue. Able to improvise on the fly, constructing layers within layers of intrigue, to the point where even his enemies became his friends. And in this case, to the point where his "friends" were suddenly declared enemies.

_What manner of transportation is this? _signaled the as yet uncoordinated fingers of Jae-Deia Starwind.

_Starship, by the looks of it,_ responded the slender digits of Jarlaxle Baenre. The way he signaled it made it appear as if he knew exactly what he was talking about. That alone gave Zaknafein pause, having heard the word himself only in the ramblings of a few half-drow merchants claiming to have lived for several years on the surface, before making their way inexorably to the cities and the marketplaces of the Underdark.

Zaknafein stared at the sleek, silvery vessel through narrowed crimson eyes. There was no doubt in his mind now that those same merchants had spoken truly, after all. Now that Zak was swiftly approaching his mid-twenties, it appeared he had a great deal yet to be learned about the world in which he lived. He was only a page prince in the days when he had been sent to the marketplaces to pick up new weapons and supplies for House Do'Urden, which he'd truly enjoyed at the time. His only lament at present was that he had failed to believe some of the tales he had heard.

Jae-Deia ventured right up to the foreign vessel, dragging the flat of one of her twin scimitars along the gleaming surface, tracing the craft's streamlined contours and metallic wings as she moved. Her lithe form virtually shimmered under the waxing moon, the archaic symbols branded into her milky flesh revealed for the first time tonight as blue-white fire: a code of some sort written in the elvish language that could only be seen directly under the moon. Zaknafein truly admired this elfmaiden's beauty, her athletic physique leaving little to the imagination, garbed as she was in a black fur halter that exposed her midrift, and a matching loincloth, her dark leather, fur-lined boots extending to the areas just below her muscular calves. Her long legs moved with a grace that rivaled that of a cat; her lustrous black curls were cropped short to accentuate her pointed ears, as well as her angular facial features, with eyes like blue steel that glistened each time she looked up.

Even more than her looks, Zaknafein was infatuated with the way she conducted herself in combat. Those twin scimitars of hers were as kindred spirits, outward expressions of her considerable inner strength. The sheer fluidity of her movements, the almost effortless grace and lethal skill of her attack sequences, were unlike anything Zaknafein had yet seen from a female warrior.

The Star Princess stopped in midstride, noticing Zak's adoring stare for the first time. She smiled: a dazzling sight that stole the drow's breath at first. Quickly, he averted his gaze lest he become permenantly entranced. Jarlaxle then crossed his line of vision and offered a knowing grin, his own eyes flashing blood red in the shadows.

_I see the starship isn't the only wonder you seek to investigate_, Jarlaxle signaled. _Perhaps the two of you would like some privacy?_

Zaknafein allowed himself a small laugh at his own expense. _I would probably like that very much, old friend,_ he signed. Then he looked up toward the clear sky, thankful it was no longer drenching them with water at least, but noting the gradual brightening here over the eastern region of the forest. _But I fear there is no time for such pleasantries. Let us be gone from --_

He paused in midsentence when he suddenly noticed a green cloth traveling sack, filled to capacity, lying off to one side in the rich, flowing grass. He moved to investigate, while Jarlaxle and the Star Princess returned their attention to the object of their own curiosity.

"At any rate," Jae-Deia whispered aloud, apparently satisfied with her survey of the ship, "I don't think it's very wise to remain out here in the open. The night is getting older which, for the two of you, is not a good thing, I should think. Perhaps we should return to the hunt, and prepare to go our separate ways."

Zaknafein picked up the sack and glanced inside, noting various food items and peculiar-looking equipment, a couple garments of some sort and some metal gadgets. With a shrug, he tossed the bag to the ground, then turned to level an expectant stare upon Jarlaxle. For Zak, of course, did not understand what the woman had said. When Jarlaxle translated it for him in the silent hand code, he just sighed and glanced forlornly at Jae-Deia, before resuming his purposeful stride toward the forest. Fine swords drawn and held loosely at his sides, the drow warrior penetrated the overgrown foliage, and never looked back.

Jarlaxle, however, was not so quick to depart from the site of this bizarre spectacle, which he himself had heard and read much about during his own expeditions - particularly on the surface. His curiosity at this point was a living flame, expanding like one of Gromph's infamous fireballs inside of him. He approached the ship slowly, sheathing his short swords in their respective scabbards. His gaze shifted from Jae-Deia back to the ship. _I must explore this new wonder as thoroughly as one of my kind would ever dare,_ he signaled.

The beautiful maiden's eyes asked the question that neither her mouth nor her hands seemed willing to ask in response.

"Am I insane?" Jarlaxle whispered in Jae-Deia's language, as if reading her thoughts. His smile was wide, his white teeth gleaming in the soft moonlight that illuminated the meadow. "I've been called much worse, I assure you. But go, I bid you. Perhaps we will see each other again this night, before the dawn itself crashes our little party and forces us to part company forever."

Jae-Deia smirked at that. She tossed Jarlaxle a mischievous wink before she, too, padded silently into the forest. Her chosen path was precisely the same as Zaknafein's, Jarlaxle noticed. He chuckled, tipped his wide-brimmed hat to the departed, and returned his focus to the object of his wildest dreams and imaginings.

* * * * *

Kandomyr studied the newcomer intently. He was about average height for a human, with a complexion very similar to sun elves. His youthful visage was belied only by the depth of knowledge in his dark brown eyes, which spoke of many years beyond his apparent age. The Archers Elite had elected to allow this strange human access to their platform from an adjoining tree, hustling him inside at spear-point to face the judgment of the Elf Lord and the Archmage. Communication had been impossible, until Kandomyr himself stepped forth and executed the proper spell. For the moment, Jovell Starwind appeared content just studying the strange human, watching his body language, and noting the hilt of that peculiar weapon now attached to his belt.

Eventually, the young man took the initiative to speak. "Forgive my intrusion," he said slowly, as if each word could very well be misinterpreted as a threat of some kind. "I am Corintheus Thoram. I am not from this world, nor even this galaxy, it would seem. My Master should be along shortly, as well, to further reassure you that our appearance is purely incidental, and that we mean your people no harm."

"There are two of you here, you say?" queried the Elf Lord, clasping his hands behind his back and stepping back toward the entrance to the modestly furnished tree home. Outside, the Archers Elite fired off into the night at irregular intervals, aiming at the fleeting shadows here and there.

"Yes, Master Yoda is the name of the little green alien who should be here any minute now," Corintheus confirmed.

Jovell quirked an eyebrow at that, though he kept his back turned to Corintheus. "Little green..._alien_?"

"His exact race is unknown, and he himself refuses to discuss it with anyone."

Suddenly, a disturbance erupted around the back of the tree in which they stood. A gravelly voice could be heard above the twang of bows and arrows, as could the droning hum of a lightsaber swirling about to deflect the arrows.

"Ah, that would be him," Corintheus announced, looking from the Elf Lord to the Archmage.

Kandomyr, who had remained silent to this point, nodded and produced a gray, ram-shaped horn from the folds of his emerald robes. When he spoke into its golden-tipped mouthpiece, his voice actually emanated outside the tree rather than inside, where he actually was. "Let the little goblinoid ascend to the Council Chamber," boomed the magically enhanced voice.

Corintheus blew a sigh of relief, relaxing his stiff posture in the center of the room. The expulsion of his breath made several candle flames dance on a wooden table nearby, casting elongated shadows against the carved walls.

The Padawan Learner failed to notice one of those shadows, which hadn't been there before, moving as if with a life of its own...


	7. Unlikely Alliance

**Chapter VI:**

**Unlikely Alliance**

Zak was back in the darkness of the Wilds from the World Above. Nothing was out of the ordinary to his considerable senses. All was deadly calm, akin to the held breath of a stalking giant. A stalking _drow_ giant, Zaknafein mused grimly. As a steel sliver in the side of a displacer beast, he streamed through the woodland domain without a sound. The red hue of the darkness from his inborn infravision registered no warm bodies nearby in this portion of the Moonwood. Only the calming reassurance of the wondrous beauty shadowing his every step from behind and to the right gave any indication of life at all.

Strange, the warrior pondered. Split seconds after the thought had finished, a trio of chainmail armored guardians with great halberds of titanium steel rushed from the deeper shadows concealed by the dense foliage. The dawn was coming. As even the Lord of the Moonwood's personal guards had arrived to cleanse the threat from their domain!

Pure instinct engulfed the young Do'Urden. Fine swords intercepted the first massive swing from the halberd on the left, tapped it a twice in rapid succession, then sent it flying the other way with a quick backhand. Zaknafein leaped around that opponent. Up he went with a levitation spell, racing for the moon-dappled shadows of the surrounding trees. Jae-Deia was suddenly next to him! Moon elves could levitate, too? he marvelled.

Zak glanced once in her direction, senses focusing back outward to the now all-encompassing danger in the area. Arrows pierced the darkness as a whisper of death. But the instinct to survive demanded that Zaknafein's skill to defend himself remain worthy of his Underdark reputation. An explosion of spinning flurries with his twin blades as he soared into the heavens sliced the swarm of missiles that came forth as a shower from above. Not one of them cut a single scratch on his slender frame!

Jae-Deia Starwind smiled over at him as she rose into the wind, as well. She appeared as an angel in the darkness to Zaknafein's mind. Her supple body shimmered as she drifted in and out of the moonlight, scimitars and bright blue eyes glinting. _I will take you to my father and explain everything_, she signed at length, after sheathing her weapons at her sides. _Merely stay alive long enough for us to reach him, is all I will ask of you._

Zaknafein was scarcely able to follow the woman's awkward version of the silent hand code, but he got the gist of it. In any case, he hadn't any time to ponder it more fully, for the same peculiar bird he had seen before the battle had even begun suddenly appeared again. This time, it flew straight at him, claws extended, hooked beak opened to emit a piercing shriek that reverberated in Zak's ears. Eyes wide, he reacted without even thinking about it, sending his swords into a blurred frenzy. The bird was too late to stop its forward momentum, huge wings spread wide, and was immediately battered by the flats of those whirling blades from all angles -- almost as if there were actually _two_ warriors attacking instead of one!

Zak rose above the floundering and flustered creature, unsure of how the situation would play out at this point. The owl bounced off the trunk of a nearby shadowtop, then righted itself in midair before it fell and swooped back in pursuit. As soon as Zaknafein looked down to monitor its progress, he noticed too the ascending forms of the nearly forgotten elvish guards. Wonderful, he thought miserably, glancing once more at Jae-Deia. She no longer smiled, but focused her attention on the screeching avian rising after them from below. In the language of her own people, she declared something very short and to the point. The bird responded by flapping its wings mightily one last time, then folded them at its sides, closing the distance in less than a couple heartbeats. Once upon them, it swooped about them, circling once and then twice. When Jae-Deia spoke again, the curious bird dove back down to intercept the elvish guards.

Zaknafein watched in bewilderment as the moon elves reacted to the bird's approach with calm assurance. It seemed to be communicating with them, as it now circled them, precisely as it had done with Zak and Jae-Deia a second ago. Nodding their helmed and black-plumed heads, they halted their ascent, grabbing hold of three separate treelimbs and looking up at the departing duo. The bird then launched skyward a third and final time. Jae-Deia reached out and clutched Zaknafein's right arm, forcefully pulling him to herself, as they finally reached a wooden platform that wound completely around a tree so enormous that Zak could've mistaken it for a mountain.

_I take it this is the home of your father?_ he signaled the instant he sheathed his own weapons. His booted feet settled firmly on the landing at the same time as Jae-Deia's. That beautiful smile of hers returned tenfold. The warrior supposed it would have been a shame if he was more like his own people.

For this charming elvish princess would have been long dead by now.

* * * * *

The Elf Lord's keep was a beehive of activity. Jovell Starwind marched his new acquaintances from a different galaxy down and around and around, barking orders to his archers as he came upon each organized group at various points along the serpentine walkway. All stood at attention, wearing solemn expressions, some of them glancing hopefully toward the eastern horizon where the first glimmers of the sun shone reddish-pink. Speartips reflected the silvery stars still visible through the breaches in the thick canopy of leaves and limbs. Stinging insects pestered several soldiers here and there, causing them to swat angrily at exposed flesh.

Jovell led the otherworldly visitors to a section on the platform about midway to the bottom of the tree. There they met up with his daughter and -- another visitor, it appeared. This one was drow! "By the storms, Child, tell me I am not seeing things in my old age!" he growled, clasping his hands tightly behind his back, his feral gaze locked with the crimson-glowing eyes of the dark elf standing casually beside his daughter.

Jae-Deia snapped to attention, saluting her father with a swift chopping motion of her left hand at chest-level. "Forgive me, Father," she implored. "This one is not like his kin. He turned on them, along with another who did not return here with us. We have been hunting the drow as a unit for the last couple hours or so. It is a hard tale to believe, I am sure, but--"

"It is most _certainly _that, Child," Jovell cut in venomously, not even blinking or taking his eyes off the drow warrior for an instant.

"I see that you, too, have acquired new friends. One of them appears to be goblinoid, albeit unusually small for its kind," Jae-Deia pointed out, as if her father had not spoken at all. Or more to the point, as if her bringing a drow here was somehow diminished by her father's present company.

Yoda and Corintheus stirred uneasily behind the Elf Lord as the heated exchange continued. The Jedi Master could sense all that transpired in and around the immediate area. Kandomyr's communication spell was still in effect, so that Yoda and his Padawan understood all that was said by each new speaker they encountered. But Master Yoda was more intent on that which could not be readily seen or heard.

"A new disturbance in the Force, I detect," Yoda confided in his Padawan, murmuring softly.

Corintheus nodded. His facial expression was vacant as he responded just as discreetly. "This new version of the Force has more than two sides to it, I feel. Voices as from a dream keep speaking in my mind, and not all of them under one accord. Some seem evil, others goodly, while still others are whimsical, free-flowing as the wind. Others hold to neutrality, saying very little but making their presence felt all the same. What do you suppose it all means, Master?"

Yoda's ears swivelled and twitched as he looked straight ahead, observing the back of their noble host. Yoda's eyes, however, looked right through the slender Elf Lord, focusing ever inward. A subtle sensation washed over the Jedi Master, alerting him that his Padawan was in danger of converting to whatever this world's version of the Dark Side might be at some point -- if they didn't leave this planet soon. As it stood, there was another danger hovering about, one that was very real and very immediate. A menacing specter of some sort was even now observing all that moved from some place unknown.

"Careful in the days to come, we both must be," Yoda whispered at length. "As for now, wary you should be of something akin to a Dark Lord of the Sith, somewhere near."

Moments later, after the Elf Lord escorted the small company to the Council Chamber near the top of the grand tree, the Archmage Kandomyr appeared in their midst, back in elvish form. His golden eyes instantly locked with the crimson orbs of Zaknafein Do'Urden. Eventually, the wizard reenacted the spell that would allow everyone to communicate in his or her own language, while being heard by the others in their own languages.

"Thank you, Kandomyr," Jovell Starwind said with an appreciative nod. He then took a seat in one of the padded chairs surrounding the small wooden table in the far right corner, gesturing for the others to do the same. Once they were all seated, he began the proper introductions. "First, I want to welcome you visitors to the forest of Moonwood. I am Lord Jovell Starwind. My peculiar friends here are called Master Yoda and Corintheus Thoram. Yoda, Corintheus, you have already met my wizard advisor Kandomyr. This is my daughter Jae-Deia Starwind, and her newfound companion Zaknafein Do'Urden, a warrior from the hated underground city of Menzoberranzan, a dark elf, sworn enemy of my people."

The three strangers acknowledged each other with a solemn nod of their heads. Master Yoda could sense a bit of trepidation in this dark elf warrior, even though no outward signs of it were revealed.

"Zaknafein will now be so gracious as to tell us what brings a representative of his kind to my doorstep, with my beloved daughter as his personal escort," Jovell went on to say, filling a golden goblet with dark wine from a silver pitcher. Kandomyr used telekinesis to summon other goblets from a nearby shelf. Once all the goblets were filled and offered to each in attendance, Jovell sat back and sipped at his own, staring expectantly at Zaknafein.

Zak followed suit, savoring the delicious blend, before speaking his piece. "It was not my intention at first to turn against my people," he confided slowly and deliberately. Glancing over at Jae-Deia, Master Yoda noticed that the warrior gathered his courage on the basis of her encouraging smile. "But my people disgust me! All the tales I have ever heard of your people were of bloodshed brought about by my own people and not yours. All the evils my people ever declared with regard to the surface elves were of self-defense and nothing more. When my companion Jarlaxle, who has taken a different route, in order that he might investigate a peculiar vessel on the eastern border of your domain --"

"Peculiar vessel, you say?" Yoda interjected at once, his long ears perking up at the mention of what could very well be the _X-Falcon II_. "On the eastern border?"

"Yes," Zaknafein admitted, regarding the diminutive green alien fixedly for the first time. "He thought it was some kind of... starship, I think he called it. Yours perhaps?"

"Aye, indeed it is," Master Yoda revealed, sleepy eyes boring holes into Zaknafein, though his body remained relaxed. "More I would like to hear of this companion of yours. Of his intentions, specifically, I would like to know."

"We will get back to that presently, Master Yoda," Jovell assured the Jedi, reasserting himself in the conversation. "I believe Zaknafein here was about to divulge some rather interesting information as to why he is here, as well as why my people should now treat him as an ally, when he was originally sent here to pillage and destroy."

Zak cleared his throat at that, taking another sip of wine. Setting the goblet back on the table, he said, "When my companion Jarlaxle fought against Jae-Deia, he convinced her that we were not the same as our people. Our actions soon convinced her fully of what mere words could not. A short alliance, to be sure, for with the rising sun even now, my people must prepare to retreat back into the Underdark. And I'm afraid that I, too, must leave. But I wanted to make a difference by fighting on the right side, albeit in a covert fashion, with the hopes of going unnoticed by my kin upon my return. I wanted it to appear to them as though I was on their side the whole time, killing faeries at my leisure."

"Ah, but all the while betraying them by literally stabbing them in the back," Kandomyr piped in, speaking up for the first time. "Truly an excellent premise upon which to form an alliance, however temporary, with one's sworn enemies, wouldn't you agree?"

Zaknafein responded to the sarcastic response not at all. Instead, he shot a nervous glance outside the tree, where the darkness was gradually giving way to the new dawn.

"What more to accomplish, do you feel you must?" asked Master Yoda, unexpectedly adding his own voice to this particular aspect of the conversation.

Zak regarded the Jedi Master warily, obviously unsure of what to make of the small creature. Yoda could sense the warrior's discomfort as easily as he could sense his own heartbeat. But, before Zaknafein could answer the Jedi Master, Yoda shifted his focus back to Kandomyr, whose facial expression appeared suddenly alarmed. Yoda sensed it, too: a sinister presence in the chamber, which had been lurking like an unseen cloud for quite some time now.

Kandomyr looked as if he was about to say something -- when virtually all Nine Hells broke out.


	8. The Dark Lord

**Chapter VII:**

**The Dark Lord**

The ceiling burst into white-hot flames, expanding like a wheel across the gracefully carved wood. Master Yoda did not have to prompt his young apprentice as to what their next move should be. In fact, all in attendance were of one accord on vacating the Council Chamber forthwith. And none too soon! For the instant all five negotiators raced outside and hurled themselves over the balcony railing, a tremendous explosion rocked the northern region as would a volcanic eruption. Yoda ignited his lightsaber in midair, as did Corintheus, flying through the wind all the faster from the superheated shockwave. The Jedi Master twisted as he fell, deflecting several burning cinders in pursuit of his diminutive frame with frenzied slashes of his humming energy blade. Corintheus mirrored his Master's movements, the long hours of rigorous training back on Coruscant now paying off.

Each member of the small party hit the ground split-seconds apart. The screams of the dying filled the atmosphere as the mightiest tree in this vicinity burned to the ground in a matter of moments. Yoda turned back in time to see a black-robed figure rapidly descending toward the Archmage of Moonwood Forest. And in that instant, everything became crystalline clear to the mind of Master Yoda, an epiphany with regards to this alien version of the Force, called the Weave.

Yoda understood, for example, that most denizens of this planet foolishly believed that a duel between Archmages such as these was normally conducted in a dynamic display of pyrotechnics and creative conjurations, both wizards formally casting their offensive spells at one another until one or the other fell dead. But the truth of the matter was that he who struck first and hardest tended to prevail more often than not. Aside from that, the Jedi Master could sense everything currently transpiring in the woodland domain, along with a series of possible outcomes for each encounter including the overall conflict, which should definitely be drawing toward its final conclusion within the hour.

Presently, the group of five stood spellbound by the descent of what could only be a drow mage of considerable power. The black-skinned elf's stark white hair billowed outward from his narrow head, like the mane of a wild pegasus, crimson eyes flaring angrily, giving the mage the appearance of a marauding demon. Arcs of silvery lightning crackled about the robed figure's lithe body, as the wizard struck the earth and commenced his assault, swinging his left hand in a violent gesture toward the stunned Kandomyr not ten feet away. The moon elf belatedly rambled off the proper incantation for a defensive spell, even as a series of red liquid droplets of some sort careened toward him, elongating and writhing as they approached. Yoda was the first to act on behalf of the apparently doomed wizard, streaking into the path of the flying objects with his lightsaber ignited and twirling about in a defensive blur, trailing green light in the diminishing darkness. The Jedi Master succeeded in deflecting the majority of the peculiar missiles.

But two of the slimy apparitions slipped past Yoda's energy blade to hit their target, hissing and sizzling as they made contact with Kandomyr's exposed neck. Kandomyr's incantation was abruptly cancelled as he began backpedaling, clawing at his fair skin, to no avail. For the creatures -- whatever they were -- began frantically burrowing into the wizard's flesh in search of major arteries. Next, the sinister black elf stabbed the index finger of his right hand toward Master Yoda, conjuring a neon white thunderbolt, which flashed forth, only to be blocked and absorbed by the Jedi Master's lightsaber.

Kandomyr's agonized scream was deafening, echoing throughout the entire northern region of the sylvan domain.

Belatedly, Corintheus Thoram, Zaknafein Do'Urden, Jae-Deia and Lord Jovell snapped out of their trances, drew their respective weapons and charged the enemy mage from widely opposing angles. Suddenly, the forest exploded about them with the converging forms of allies and enemies alike. Yoda whipped about one last time, releasing his lightsaber with one hand, flinging that one outward toward the enemy wizard, summoning a gale of telekinetic force that hurled the dark elf backward, smashing him against the wide base of the incinerated tree some twenty feet behind him. The drow wizard's breath expelled in a single whoosh from the sickening impact, and he fell face-first into the mud.

Meanwhile, the final battle between dark elves and moon elves commenced as the dawn silvered the sky above the forest. The ensuing melee produced absolute chaos among those present. Zaknafein found himself confronted by not one but two familiar drow. Dantrag and Triel Baenre sported wicked grins as they attacked in unison, forcing the young Do'Urden onto his heels at once. Zak's twin blades darted about in a desperate attempt to block each thrust of first one sword and then the other, as well as the fangs of five writhing serpent heads from the whip of a High Priestess.

Yoda sensed everything, but could ill afford to take his focus off the drow mage who even now hauled himself up from the muddy earth, his grime-covered visage a mask of unbridled fury. Streaking forth to deliver the death blow, the diminutive Jedi raised his lightsaber high above his head, issuing a gravelly war cry as he ran. But the second he reached his intended target, there was suddenly no one there to strike! It was as if the Archmage had simply never existed; just vanished, like the remnants of an obscure dream. Unable to stop his enhanced momentum, Yoda swung his weapon anyway, cutting nothing but air, his lightsaber humming a low tune. Breathing heavily, he looked about for the mysterious assailant, bearing witness to the intense battle taking place in the vast clearing.

Jae-Deia had joined Zaknafein in his fight against his own kin, the two of them making little progress against what appeared to be equal opposition. Corintheus and Lord Jovell fought back to back, an unfamiliar duo wielding their respective blades with deadly efficiency as they wheeled about, fending off the incoming jabs and thrusts from several opponents at once. Kandomyr, on the other hand, was not so fortunate. His frail body spasmed about on the ground not even three steps away from yet another duel between an axe-wielding moon elf and a dark elf wielding sword and dagger.

Yoda made his way through the writhing throng, fighting to keep from sneezing due to the billowing clouds of dust. He sensed catastrophe a full heartbeat before it struck, but was helpless to prevent it. For no sooner had Kandomyr, his own eyes now glowing crimson red like those of the wizard who'd assaulted him, bounced up and raced across the battlefield toward Corintheus Thoram, hands extended before him, than Master Yoda found himself engaged in mortal combat with a new adversary. In his mind's eye, he could see Kandomyr grab one of the enemy invaders currently fighting Corintheus. The elvish mage hurled the unsuspecting drow backward as though he were nothing more than a lifeless rag, closing the distance between himself and Corintheus so quickly that Corintheus could not react in time to stop him.

Before the Padawan Learner knew what was happening, Kandomyr was right up against him, throttling him while issuing an insane roar, as he wrestled the taller human away from Jovell and the drow aggressors. In the blink of an eye, the Archmage of Moonwood burst into flames, engulfing himself and Corintheus in the magical conflagaration. A duet of earsplitting screams assaulted the morning atmosphere. Almost immediately, the flames died out. Only Corintheus remained, his body severely burned, as were his clothes which smoldered and hung from his body in tatters. The Padawan staggered about in a daze, dropped his weapon to the ground, and fell over backward.

Master Yoda could not help his apprentice. Instead, he focused on the enemy before him, sending his lightsaber into a zig-zagging flurry, batting the dark elf's magical sword high and low and to either side in rapid succession. When he had prepared the position of his adversary's weapon to his liking, he spun right by the stunned warrior, following through with a leaping snap kick to the drow's lower spine, sending him sprawling to the earth. Long ears swivelling, Master Yoda spared his opponent a parting, backward glance before rushing forth to tend to his unconscious apprentice across the way.

Gromph Baenre materialized inside the cavern entrance that led back into the Underdark. A dull ache made its presence felt in his lower back. Who and what was that strange goblinoid creature? he wondered. It was too small for a goblin, but unnaturally powerful, as if it came from some other plane of existence. Perhaps it was a goodly spirit conjured by the moon elves, Gromph supposed.

Surveying the accursed sun inching higher and higher into the heavens, he moved deeper into the protective shadows. He then reached into the folds of his black robes and produced a multifaceted crystal, glowing dimly with its own inner light. The Archmage of Menzoberranzan placed the item to his bloodied lips and spoke into it. "Triel, this is Gromph," he announced gruffly. "My mission was successful, as we agreed it must be. I'm going home now, and I suggest you and the others begin doing the same, unless you relish being caught out in the midday sun."

Moments later, the crystal shone brightly in the palm of Gromph's hand, and the voice of a female emanated from its depths. "We are retreating even now, brother," said Triel. "My congratulations on a job well done. As for Dantrag and myself, we were not able to finish the Do'Urden boy before being separated in the chaos. No matter. As long as Zaknafein lives, I will see to it that he is never forgotten -- particularly in light of his sacrilegious acts on behalf of our sworn enemies!"

Gromph let out a soft chuckle at that. "Yes, I am aware that he sided with the moon elves," he replied. "I am certain that his Matron Mother would be very interested in hearing the details of his personal exploits on the surface." That said, he replaced the crystal within the folds of his robes and looked once more to the brightening sky of the outside world. He pondered the effects of his most devastating spell to date. The liquid parasites, designed to drive their host insane, were the agents of an ancient torture method normally reserved for Matron Mothers performing ritual executions or interrogations. No one knew that Gromph Baenre had discovered the secret to conjuring such demons out of thin air.

Not even Matron Baenre herself.

The Archmage smiled wickedly, silently congratulating himself one last time, before turning the bone ring on his finger and vanishing again. The next time he appeared, he would be sitting comfortably back in his padded chair within the confines of his own private study. Minor disturbances aside, this was shaping up to be a good day, after all.


End file.
